


Mirrors

by allrounderinsane



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allrounderinsane/pseuds/allrounderinsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Alastair Cook tweeting about his surprise wedding and putting up a picture of him leading his new bride on a white stallion would seem odd. As would a picture of Michael Clarke dressed in military fatigues or with a dead deer at his feet. Cook isn’t about to make much of his body a canvas or become an underwear model. Clarke isn’t likely to wear gumboots and tend to his livestock before dawn. Clarke and Cook are two very different human beings.' - Cricinfo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was at the Adelaide Oval and the sun was setting. Hours earlier, Australia had defeated England in the second Ashes Test. As the victory had occurred in the middle of the day, the teams had commiserated or celebrated accordingly long before sunset. By chance, the two captains, Michael Clarke and Alastair Cook, both wandered out of their respective dressing rooms at the same time.

They spotted each other at a distance.

“Hi,” Michael greeted out of respect, with a slight wave.

Alastair curved his lips, unsure of how to greet his opposite number. They continued to walk towards each other, both stepping apprehensively along the concrete. Michael and Alastair eventually reached one another. They stared into each other’s eyes without speaking for a few moments.

“Congratulations,” Alastair finally murmured, glancing down to the other man’s feet.

Michael smiled slightly, wary of not appearing too contented in front of the losing captain. He noticed that Alastair’s dark hair was ruffled.

“Thanks,” Michael murmured, trying not to look at the Englishman.

Alastair cleared his throat, causing Michael to suddenly glance up at him, a bit startled. They locked eyes for a second that felt like an hour. Slowly, they stepped towards one another, apprehensively, their steps creating a beat against the concrete. Then, Michael stepped aside, to allow Alastair to pass, as that was what he assumed he was trying to do. Alastair looked into the other man’s eyes.

Michael began to feel uncomfortable. Alastair, for a brief moment, forgot that the other man was the opposing captain whose team was leading the English side in an Ashes series 2-0. It left his mind that Michael had punished his bowlers with a brilliant hundred just three days earlier. After all, Alastair certainly had a thing for captains.

He cupped his hands around Michael’s prickly cheeks and kissed him passionately. As Alastair broke away from the kiss, he suddenly remembered that the attractive man was his opposing captain in an Ashes battle.

“Excuse me,” Michael muttered in an embarrassed tone, cleared his throat and attempted to swiftly walk away.

Alastair gripped the other captain’s arm, causing Michael to turn to the dark-haired man with a puzzled expression. The Englishman smiled uneasily.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed a man before,” he demanded of Michael.

The Australian shook his head straight away. He was genuinely telling the truth, as he had engaged in many encounters with one certain other man before. Alastair bowed his head in recognition of Michael’s answer. He looked over towards his fingers wrapped around the Australian’s arm.

Alastair released his grip, but Michael did not walk away, which surprised both of them.

“They reckon we’re so different, you know,” Michael seemed like he was talking to the entire empty Adelaide Oval, “But I, I disagree”.

The Australian captain waved his hands around. Alastair grabbed his left hand and held it, trying to calm Michael down.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” he murmured in his ear, pulling the other captain towards him.

Michael was tempted to step away, but, spurred on by the anger of the tiff he had exchanged in with his lover prior to leaving the dressing room, he did not. He shook his head slightly, then shuffled his feet towards the other captain. Michael was reluctant to answer the question and stared out over the ground.

“Dave,” he muttered bitterly, “David Warner”.

Alastair widened his mouth slightly, but he was not completely surprised by the revelation. If his own team was anything to go by, he knew that nobody should assume that any particular cricketer was completely heterosexual.

“You sound like something’s gone wrong,” Alastair pointed out.

What he really wanted to say was: ‘You sound too upset to be a captain of a team who are 2-0 up in an Ashes series’.

“We need to talk in private,” Michael stated grimly.

He started to walk and dragged Alastair off across the Adelaide Oval stands to find a secret backroom. Alastair hoped that ‘talking in private’ meant a lot more than first met the eye. Eventually, Michael pushed open a door and entered, along with the other captain. He locked the door and noticed that Alastair had sprawled himself out on a dusty brown couch against the back wall of the storeroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael Clarke stomped across the room towards Alastair Cook and leaped onto the other man’s lap, spreading his legs. He cupped Alastair’s face in his hands and kissed him passionately. The English captain moaned with both pleasure and the surprise of the Australian launching himself onto his lap. Eventually, they broke away from the kiss, gasping for air.

“Have you got anything special planned for your 100th test?” Michael asked unexpectedly, panting as he placed his fingertips upon the dark-haired man’s shoulders.

Alastair was surprised by the question, but he answered it truthfully by shaking his head dismissively. Michael nodded his own head once, then lent in again for another kiss. He moved his lips down from the Englishman’s and began running gentle kisses down his jawline. Alastair threw his head back against the back of the dirty couch.

Michael’s lips reached the curve between the Englishman’s neck and shoulders. He began sucking against the skin, creating a red mark. Michael noticed this and stopped himself.

“Keep going,” Alastair demanded.

They looked into each other’s eyes confusingly.

“I’m leaving a mark,” Michael admitted sheepishly.

Alastair glanced down to the red mark on his neck and pretended to look horrified, then laughed.

“I don’t think that we’re similar anymore,” Michael suddenly confessed, moving backwards off the couch and standing in front of the opposition captain.

Alastair frowned.

“Don’t worry about leaving a mark,” he hissed flirtatiously, “Don’t worry about your relationship. You have nothing to worry about”.

Michael walked back over to the couch and sat down beside Alastair. He sighed loudly and placed his head down on the other man’s shoulder.

“We’re both captains, we’re both playing our 100th Tests on Friday,” Michael mused.

“We’re both in love with explosive batsmen,” Alastair interjected.

Michael was surprised by this revelation. He propped his head back up and looked over at Alastair, his mind racing as to who the other man’s lover was.

“KP?” he guessed, uttering the first name to enter his thoughts.

Alastair nodded slowly, but confidently.

“Got it in one,” he added.

Michael moaned in both recognition of the answer and slight surprise at what the answer was. He glanced back over to the opening batsman’s other shoulder and noticed that the red mark had faded slightly.

“Your love bite is fading,” Michael stated in a relieved tone.

Alastair placed an arm around the Australian to comfort him.

“Let me tell you something,” he murmured, “Kev and I, we both know that in a relationship like ours, sometimes will desire other people and we just let ourselves go for it”.

Michael smiled slightly. He was confused that he was receiving subtle relationship advice from the English team.

“Well, I go for it, Kev only goes for it in relation to his batting,” Alastair muttered, a bit lost in his own thoughts, “Jimmy and Swanny don’t exactly have an open relationship either”.

Michael took in this new information and started to think about the potential relationships that could exist within his own team. With a sigh, he rolled his body over to once again be positioned on Alastair’s lap.

“Make me lose control,” Michael gritted between his teeth, before leaning in again to passionately kiss Alastair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to lovingcricket and misfielding, the chief Clarke/Cook shippers (we need a ship name for them) who inspired me to continue this fanfiction. Thank you also to misfielding, lovingcricket and brilliantrory for your likes. BTW, I’m sorry if drunk Cooky offends anyone.

It was only four days later when Michael Clarke and Alastair Cook were required to play against each other in the Perth Test match. They attempted to avoid each other while training beforehand. Finally, however, they did have to face each other at the coin toss. Mark Nicholas arrived with the special coin and handed it to Michael for him to flip.

Alastair called heads, but the coin landed on the other side. The captains shook hands and Michael walked over for his interview, during which he announced his intentions to bat. Alastair himself additionally wanted to bat, but conceded on television that bowling wasn’t so bad after all. When they were both walking off to their respective dressing rooms, the two captains caught up to one another.

“Good luck,” Alastair stated grimly as he passed Michael.

Michael nodded, unsure of how to respond.

“Yeah, you too, mate,” he murmured awkwardly and picked up his jog.

Alastair glanced up and down the Australian captain. He quickly worked out that Michael was additionally attractive with his clothes on.

Australia won the Ashes as a result of winning that Perth Test match. The English team were heartbroken, whereas the Australians celebrated long into the night. Michael eventually went to bed just after midnight. He was nearly asleep when he heard a loud knock at the door of his hotel room. Michael, with a sigh, climbed out of bed and ambled over to the door, assuming that it would be one of his players wanting to continue the celebrations.

He opened the door to find the English captain standing in front of him with a strange smile on his face.

“Alastair,” Michael murmured in surprise.

Alastair nodded in an exaggerated fashion, then charged in through the doorway past Michael.

“You’re so great, you know that,” he yelled, “You’re all like ‘Alastair, Alastair, I feel so bad for Alastair’ in your speech and ‘my team are so great’ and ‘yay’”.

Alastair staggered forward, then flopped down onto Michael’s bed. After falling flat on his face, he rolled over onto his back. The dark-haired man stunk of alcohol.

“Have you been drinking, Alastair?” Michael queried.

Grinning and giggling, the English captain nodded. He stared up at Michael in front of him. He was dressed in only green satin boxer shorts.

“Come here,” Alastair muttered between his teeth.

He himself was still dressed in his playing whites, he was even still wearing his spiked shoes and England cap. Alastair wriggled across the bed, took his cap off and placed it on top of the chest of drawers by the side of the bed. He wriggled back to his original position. Michael just stared at him, unsure of what to do.

This man was the captain of the English side and his own Australian team had just won back the Ashes. He knew that Alastair was deeply affected by alcohol, would probably not remember this in the morning and was far too happy for an Ashes-losing captain. Michael was additionally aware that his wife was sound asleep on the other side of a very thin wall.

However, thoughts of his evening of passion with the Englishman at the Adelaide Oval came flooding back to him. Michael lowered his body down onto Alastair’s. He ran a row of kisses along Alastair’s jawline, sucking against the slightly sunburnt flesh. The dark-haired man stared up to the white-painted ceiling.

“Take my clothes off,” he ordered.

Michael nodded and moved himself back off Alastair’s body. Alastair sat up and allowed the Australian to lift off his shirt and throw it onto the floor. He then stood up and allowed Michael to drop his trousers to his ankles. They both smiled nervously at one another, then both of their faces fell simultaneously.

“Nobody can know about this, Alastair,” Michael stated seriously.

Alastair nodded.

“Of course, Michael,” he murmured.

The Australian captain believed the other man’s promise and began to kiss him passionately, throwing both of them back onto the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Clarke/Cook fandom seems to really be taking off! I’m still thinking of what their ship name should be. Malastair? Clook? I don’t know. Thank you to misfielding, aleena-says-hi, bend-it-like-magneto and mrsdalewatson for your likes and to misfielding for your reblog (as well as your advice and suggestions).

The frenzy of passion between the captains was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Michael Clarke shrieked, the noise startling him. Alastair Cook looked the other man in the eyes for a brief moment.

“Ignore it,” he ordered, placing his head on Michael’s bare chest and kissing forceful circles around his nipples.

Michael ran a hand through Alastair’s hair. In their fleeting affair, the Englishman had already established himself as the dominant one. He had allowed him to assume this role as he was the most experienced, after all. The loud knocking continued. Michael sat up suddenly, forcing Alastair to abruptly do the same.

“Hide in the bathroom,” he gritted between his teeth.

Alastair didn’t want to obey; he wasn’t used to receiving orders from Michael, but he did reluctantly, not bothering to put back on his clothes.

“Coming,” Michael yelled, then immediately regretted his loud voice, especially when he heard Alastair giggling at his panic.

He noticed that both his and Alastair’s clothes were flung all over the room. Michael grabbed the first pair of pants he could find and placed them on, then swiftly strolled towards the door. He opened the door, his heart thumping. Michael was surprised to see none other than David Warner standing in the doorway.

“I forgive you,” he murmured in a sincere tone.

Michael did not know what to say. He had assumed that his affair with the opening batsman was well and truly over after their fight in Adelaide. Besides, Michael had affections for a new opening batsman now. That very thought made him feel like he was far deeper into this slippery slope of romantic fun with other men than he had originally intended.

“Thank you,” Michael murmured, trying to hide his body behind the door.

David stepped towards him, cupping his face in his heads and kissing him. Michael noticed that the kiss felt different from their previous kisses. It felt unnatural, whereas it had previously felt so right. He broke away from the kiss and faked a yawn.

“Goodnight Dave,” Michael stated abruptly, slamming the door in the other man’s face.

Alastair poked his head out from behind the bathroom door, smiling.

“Good one, Michael,” he murmured with a laugh.

Michael smiled slightly. He wanted to forget about David. He wanted to forget about his wife. He had just won back the Ashes, for goodness sake. Michael knew that this was the one night that he would have an opportunity to just enjoy himself and not have a care in the world.

“Come here,” he ordered of Alastair, finally giving himself an opportunity to be dominant.

Alastair smiled and giggled cheekily, his drunkenness then forcing him to chuckle uncontrollably. The English captain flopped down onto the bed.

“Come here, come here,” he screamed squeakily and continued to laugh.

Michael felt offended by the other man seeming to mock him. However, he assumed that this was due to his drunkenness, so he lay down beside him. Michael wrapped his arms around Alastair and nuzzled into his neck. He appreciated the non-sexual intimacy in the embrace as it proved to him that their feelings towards each other extended beyond lust.

“You know,” Alastair murmured in a sincere tone, “I’ve been with a lot of men, but I think you’re the best”.

Michael was surprised by his comments.

“It’s probably just the alcohol talking,” he responded quietly as the English captain pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.

In a strange way, Michael wanted his words to be true.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to misfielding, legbeforewatson and steviegthighs for liking Chapter Four.

The following day, Michael Clarke arrived back home in Sydney. By the time he reached his house, it was late afternoon and, due to his lack of sleep the night before, he was very tired. He decided to go straight to bed. Michael was almost asleep when he heard his phone buzzing loudly on his bedside table. His first thought was not to answer it at all, but then the thought flashed through his mind that, as captain, he needed to be contactable.

Michael pulled his phone from the wooden tabletop and placed it into his view. He noticed that he had one text message from David Warner.

 _Call me_ , the message simply said.

Michael wondered why, if David was so desperate to speak to him, he didn’t just call him himself. It proved to the Australian captain that, while the opening batsman had increased in maturity in recent months, he still wasn’t Einstein. The room was dark and quiet. Michael chose to call David, despite his tiredness.

If there was some sort of issue, he knew it needed to be dealt with immediately. After pressing on the green ‘call’ button on his phone, Michael anticipated what David wanted to speak to him about. His heart began to beat faster as his nerves quickly increased.

“Hello,” David finally stated.

Michael could hear his own sigh of relief.

“Hi, you wanted to talk to me,” he responded anxiously.

David sighed the sort of sigh that implied he didn’t want to say what he was about to say next, yet felt it to be necessary.

“I don’t think we can keep doing this on-off relationship thing,” he informed him, “Sorry for saying it over the phone, but I didn’t want to risk getting caught by the team”.

Michael nodded, then remembered that this was pointless as David couldn’t actually see him. Immediately, his mind flashed back to Alastair and he felt a strange pang of guilt at how quickly he was bouncing between male lovers.

“Pup?” David queried, anxiously waiting for a response.

Michael rubbed his forehead with his free hand and sighed.

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” he agreed.

There was an uneasy silence and both men were unsure of where the conversation was going next.

“Yeah, see you at the Big Bash match on Saturday,” David stated.

Michael cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he murmured before swiftly ending the phone call.

Lying back against his pillow, Michael felt like he had a weight off his shoulders. He was still unsure at how to label the situation occurring between himself and Alastair, but, by breaking off his ‘kinda sorta’ affair with David, he finally had a chance to work that out. However, before he could do that, Michael knew he needed to sleep.

He placed his phone back onto the bedside table, rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that there has been such a delay in updating this story. I have been writing my New Year’s Eve fic, Baby You’re A Firework (not that it’s an excuse). Thank you to no-coordination for your message which prompted me to finally post this chapter.

On Christmas Eve, the Australian cricket team arrived in Melbourne in preparation for the Boxing Day Test. They trained at the MCG alongside their English counterparts, then retreated to their hotel for the evening as the sun began to set. Michael Clarke was in his hotel room, sprawled out all over his bed, thinking about what he was going to do for the rest of the evening.

When he heard a polite knock at the door, he groaned. Michael didn’t particularly want to talk to anybody, but he knew that, if it was his wife or one of his players, he would need to be accessible, so, with a sigh, he got up from his bed. Michael opened the door to find none other than Alastair Cook standing there in the hallway.

He pulled on the Englishman’s wrist and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut loudly behind them.

“What are you doing here?” Michael muttered between his gritted teeth.

Alastair shook his arm to break free of the other man’s firm grip. Michael loosened his fingers and crossed his arms.

“I came to see you,” Alastair replied calmly with a smile.

Michael walked backwards, then found himself tripping backwards and tumbling onto his bed. Alastair giggled and Michael found himself smiling at his own predicament. He wriggled backwards slightly, then sat up. Alastair strolled over and sat down beside him, taking Michael’s left hand in his own right hand. He traced his fingertips around the sterling silver wedding band that had been pushed firmly to the base of the Australian’s ring finger.

Michael tried to drag his hand away. He didn’t felt comfortable with Alastair fiddling with his wedding ring.

“Please stop,” Michael requested bluntly.

Alastair stopped immediately and clasped his hands together before placing them in his lap.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked, staring straight ahead.

Michael sighed, thought about the question and wiped his chin with his hand. He didn’t know what the answer truly was. Michael was somewhat concerned that Alastair found it sensible to sneak into his hotel and get all the way up to his room at 7:30pm in the evening. That was the sort of recklessness that he knew he could not allow to creep into their secret affair.

“I really wish you hadn’t sneaked over to my room at this time of the evening,” he decided to state the truth with simplicity.

Alastair nodded slowly and exhaled loudly.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured.

Michael couldn’t help but find Alastair’s accent irresistible. He lifted his hand to the other man’s jawline – which he additionally found very attractive – then pulled it away. Michael was aware that it was not the time for passion. They really needed to have a serious talk.

“We need to talk,” he murmured, without the sincerity in his voice that he had been searching for.

Alastair placed his arm around Michael’s shoulders and squeezed slightly on his arm.

“What about, babe?” he queried sweetly, not at all adopting the serious tone that Michael wanted their conversation to possess.

Michael sighed helplessly.

“How are we going to keep doing this and not hurt anyone?” he asked.

Alastair sighed and pulled Michael a little bit closer to him. The Australian felt uncomfortable in Alastair’s embrace. He wanted the other man to let go of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask him to do so.

“It’s not that hard,” Alastair spoke in a committed tone.

“Really?” Michael queried, his voice laced with surprise and confusion.


End file.
